“Standard 5.56s.”
“And?”
“Oh, just time-delayed explosive rounds capable of penetrating armored vehicles.” Arthur grinned, slow and predatory. Syler flicked his eyes towards the starting line shelf. “Shall we?”
Arthur settled the sniper rifle onto the support shelf, temper eager for an outlet, smoothly dropping into a kneel and sighting in the weapon. He chambered a round and steadied his breathing, in, out, hold—
The round burst out with a dull ping, suppressor cutting the noise beautifully, and penetrated the plated target neatly through the center of its forehead. Arthur breathed out, waiting. One. Two. Three.
The target exploded outwards, completely disintegrated, the sheer heat destroying two more on either side of it, shrapnel flying into the reinforced walls in the wake of the bright burst of light as the round detonated. Arthur’s blood rushed.
“Initial thoughts?” Syler inquired.
“Marvelous,” Arthur breathed, eyes resting on his handler.
---
They passed the next two hours like that—Syler inquiring about the feel, the recoil, the accuracy, noting down potential adjustments on his tablet and put him through the paces of testing the new rifle seamlessly. Arthur responded, terse after the first flood of excitement had passed, but slowly mellowing into something that more closely resembled their usual banter as the low, dulcet tones of his handler washed over him in comforting waves. God, but there was a reason he’d picked him.
“An adjustable time-delay on the rounds would be nice.”
“Yes, but that runs the risk of unanticipated interference deactivating the round or preventing ignition,” Syler commented, pulling up schematics on his tablet. “The rounds are pre-programmed, activated by the combination of the firing pin and the impact of the round itself.”
“Ah, yes, then we’d only be left with a functioning bullet instead of a bullet that’s also a bomb. Absolutely useless.”
“I could conceivably enhance the rifle with a detonator on the stock, but it might throw off your grip to activate.” His tablet pinged and he stood, stretching before heading for the door. Arthur set down the lovely gun, content to follow.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“We’re about to, so I hope you’re not secretly a vegetarian.”
“Exclusive preference for meat, in fact.” He waggled his eyebrows, relishing the view as Syler unlocked the door and bent to retrieve a carryout bag in the hallway.
“And he’s back,” Syler huffed. Arthur chose to believe it was fond. “Burgers it is.”
“I think I’m in love.”
“Hush, you.” He sat down on the bench at the entrance before passing Arthur a box. Arthur smiled back guilelessly, dropping down beside him. He flipped the lid open, inhaling deeply, practically able to taste the grease.
“Fuck me, where is this even from?”
“My local dive bar. They’re kind enough to deliver.”
“And the security guards let them through?” Arthur inquired, mouth already full. Syler made a face. He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth and the other man rolled his eyes.
“No, one of the minions went up and fetched it for me. Speaking of, I feel the need to once again remind you to stop scaring them by lurking around.”
Arthur laughed. “Not when it gets me a free meal. Are we even allowed to eat in here?”
“No, but my department, my rules.” He shrugged.
With that, they settled into a comfortable silence. Arthur allowed the last bits of tension to seep out as he relaxed further against the wall, nudging his shoulder companionably against the thinner man. Syler shot him a questioning glance and Arthur grinned back at him, content. Yes, there really was a reason he’d picked him.
A thought struck him and he glanced over at Syler. Hazel eyes looked back at him wearily. “Whatever it is, no.”
“Ah ah ah, that’s not how tonight works. You dragged me in here and now I’m going to teach you how to actually fire that rifle of yours.”
The engineer’s eyebrow quirked. “Are you now?”
“I mean, you build me sinfully gorgeous weapons. It’s only fair you learned how to use them from the best. Can’t have another tech calling out stop you from heading to the range.” He hopped up, tugging the slighter man along with him as he snatched up a magazine of non-explosive rounds to start. Baby steps, after all.
“Dufault—”
“Nope, no getting out of this. Now, obviously, you know the components,” Arthur loaded the magazine into the chamber, guiding Syler to stand in front of the shelf before stepping up behind him. “But firing is a bit more complicated than just knowing the theory.”
He slipped his hands over Syler’s, moving them into position over the stock and handle of the rifle, cradling gently. “There now, lean down and sight through your right eye only.” He pulled the stock snugly into the other man’s shoulder, pressing flush against his back to move him into the proper stance. They were almost of a height like this, Arthur perhaps an inch or two taller, and Syler’s long curls brushed against Arthur’s jaw from his position over the other man’s left shoulder. “Sight in your target. Finger on the trigger only when you’re ready to pull. When you are, breathe in, breath out, hold, and fire, alri—”
Syler jammed an elbow into his ribs, pushing forward and away, neatly unloading ten rounds into the five targets down range, one to each chest and head, before Arthur could catch his breath. He dropped the magazine, locked back the chamber, and spun to face him, muzzle down, motion born of long practice, face deadpan.
“Honestly Dufault, who do you think tests your weapons normally? Hint: it’s not the technician taking notes for me.” Arthur blinked, winded. Syler grinned. “If I weren’t so amused right now, I’d be offended.”
“My god, sweetheart.” Arthur couldn’t help laughing. “I think I’m going to keep you.”
The gun was marvelous. But Syler Perrin? He was fucking exquisite.
Fifteen
The night on the gun range marked a shift in their relationship. On Dufault’s part, the flirting toned down to less outrageous levels immediately though he was no less frequent a visitor to operations over the following two weeks. Syler reluctantly came to the conclusion that Dufault was, in
